


Body Shots

by Synesthesia_Demon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Deductions, Light Bondage, M/M, Playful teasing, Porn, Table Sex, Tickling, did i mention porn?, lots of porn, nipple sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synesthesia_Demon/pseuds/Synesthesia_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John brings home alcohol because he wants to have "a bit of fun".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Shots

All was quiet at 221b Baker Street that Saturday evening, as it most often was when a case was not being worked on. The drapes were drawn, and a dim light from the flat bled through. Not a thing appeared out of place from the outside.

Inside, though, the genius consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, found himself flat on his back on the kitchen table. And he wasn't yet sure why.

John had left him there with orders to “lie there, I'll be back in a few”. It had been 19 minutes and 23 seconds by the time he returned. _Nearly 20 minutes,_ thought Sherlock, _it's raining so he would have called a cab, yes, he must have, his shoes aren't squeaking, and he doesn't sound a bit out of breath. 9 minutes to get there, 2 to do his business, and 8 minutes to get back. But why? And where? We have milk and jam, so no groceries. Neither of us are ill, and I didn't send him for cigarettes..._

He heard a rustling of thick paper and closed his eyes. _Alcohol._

“I'm surprised you didn't get up and follow me,” called John as he strode into the kitchen.

“No need,” replied Sherlock coolly, “I would have figured it out when you'd returned.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, but I must admit, I am quite surprised at what you went for.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to have a bit of fun tonight,” he said, smirking and raising the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and gave it a whiff. 

“Tequila? My my, I am even more surprised. What _are_ you doing with it?”

John set the bottle near Sherlock's feet and began to undo the bottom buttons on his shirt. When Sherlock reached for the top ones, John stopped him. 

“Just these,” he said, pushing the shirt up and exposing his belly. He grabbed the bottle and placed his free hand on his chest. “Hold still now.” And he poured the tequila into his belly button. 

Sherlock was uncomfortable for all of two seconds before John's lips met his exposed skin and drank the liquor from him. He giggled and tried his best not to squeal as a tongue licked the last droplets from the little dip. A blush formed on his cheeks as John lifted his head and licked his lips. 

“How was it?” 

“Not at all unpleasant,” admitted Sherlock. “I might go as far as to say I enjoyed it.”

“Hmm. I think I'll do another, then.” John's head bent towards him again. 

This time, John was deliberately slow with his drinking. At least, as slow as he could be without spilling the alcohol. Sherlock was thin, and his button didn't have as much of a dip. But he took his time, sipping and licking and wiggling his tongue in there. This time Sherlock did let out a cry and squirmed, even as John pressed his hands to hold him still. 

“Sherlock, are you ticklish?” asked John breathlessly. His cheeks were pink from the tequila and his words were softening. Sherlock bit his lip, not quite wanting to answer him. So John poured another shot on him, and teased him with his tongue and teeth.

“ _Jo-HOHN!_ ” he whimpered, trying to pull away as little laughs squeaked out from the sensation.

“You are, aren't you?” said John triumphantly, leaning over to kiss his belly and poke his sides a bit. Sherlock yelped in response. 

“No-no-no-no please don't do that _JOHN!_ ”

John blew a raspberry on him, then looked up, grinning. 

“One more for me? Oh, I don't think it'll kill you,” he added. This time, though, he found himself taking the shot almost instantly...and lingering to lay kisses and nips all over his belly. And he found himself kissing his way up his torso, undoing the top buttons as he went. His lips touched every rib on the way up. He then took Sherlock's face in one hand, turned it, leaned into his neck and whispered into his ear, “Take your shirt off. I want to suck this off your nipples.”

Sherlock shivered and sat up, pushing his purple shirt from his shoulders and arms, and chucking it across the kitchen. _Damn,_ but he was turned on. John's drunken order had sent a zing of arousal and heat through his entire body. He almost feared he wouldn't be able to hold still, as he was trembling from barely-controlled lust. 

John was rather buzzed now, and he poured a generous amount onto Sherlock's chest. His tongue followed every direction it flowed in, and closed his lips over a nipple. His teeth bit lightly, just light enough to extract a moan out of him, and he pulled and _sucked_ the little bud until it was throbbing and Sherlock was arching into him. John's hand slid across Sherlock's belly and into his trousers, running his finger in circles around the head of his cock through his pants. Sherlock grabbed his hair as John grazed his teeth over his nipple again, and he couldn't help but whine.

“God, Jo-hohn,” he moaned, and the hand that teased his cock slid under his pants and tugged. John's mouth wandered back to his neck and up to his lips. Sherlock could taste the alcohol as he slid his tongue between his lips. John's hand slid around the back of his neck and held him close as he ravaged Sherlock's mouth, trying to take in his taste, and trying to give him some of his own. 

“I...want to suck your cock right now, Sherlock,” he breathed, staring into his eyes as he stroked his cock. He licked his lips. “I want to suck on you till you cum. I want your cock in my mouth and I want to feel you twitch when you cum in it.” With a rough and startling _yank!_ Sherlock's pants and trousers were wrenched to his ankles. 

Sherlock's eyes were rolling back even before he felt John's breath on him down there. His hands clutched the sides of the table, then clenched at his sides, then scrabbled to grab the table again. The hand that stroked him ran a thumb over the tip of his prick, and ghosted over the slit. And that hand wrapped itself around the base and stroked him, squeezing and milking him until Sherlock was babbling noises because he couldn't stop himself. 

And when John's smirking lips engulfed his cock, he lost his ability to think about anything else. Sherlock didn't even have the coherency to call out his name as he hit the back of his throat over and over. His teeth ran on the edge under the head and Sherlock lifted his hips, begging for that burning tickle to stop and begging John to do it again. And he obliged him. He rolled his tongue over every time to ease the tickle, only to replace it with another one. His tongue flicked at the slit at the top and slid all the way down again. He stroked him while he sucked his balls, one at a time, into his mouth. Sherlock gasped at that; John had never done that to him before and it was hitting a million wonderful nerves. 

“Ah... _ah...John I'm- I'm- I'm-!_ ” 

John nibbled his way back up and squeezed him eagerly, and with a final shuddering scream, he coaxed a blinding orgasm out of Sherlock. Semen filled his mouth and he swallowed it all down, milking it out of him until he slumped back onto the table. A little drop squeezed out and John lapped at it, making Sherlock twitch and gasp.

“Oh god...” he panted, arms hanging off the table and head turned to the side. He sat up slowly, trying not to get dizzy. His eyes shined with brilliant ecstasy. And when he turned his gaze to John, ready and eager to return the favour (and then some), John capped the bottle and made a face.

“I'm a bit too...too drunk to do anythin' right now, alright?” he slurred, leaning on a chair. “I just want t'go to sleep now. Help me, would you?”

The two of them staggered off to the bedroom, Sherlock stealing kisses the entire way there. And as he undressed him, he kissed as much of him as John would allow before he slumped into bed and promptly fell asleep.

Three nights later, Sherlock walked into the bedroom carrying cuffs and the bottle of tequila. John frowned. “What-?”

“Well I do believe it's my turn, isn't it?” he replied with a mischievous glint and grin. “And these,” he added, tossing the cuffs onto the bedspread, “Well, I suspect you're less likely to stay still than I am, so they might come in handy.” 

And so, John found himself naked and cuffed to his bed, with a very devilish Sherlock holding a bottle of tequila over his belly.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you see here? Come follow me at http://synesthesiademon.tumblr.com/ ! I usually write for Penis Friday, occasionally Red Pants Monday!


End file.
